Young children still have one foot in heaven. A nine-year-old girl emerged from a three-day coma to speak of a “tall and nice” lady named Elizabeth and her new friends Andy and Mark.
During the sacred penultimacy of the crucifixion, that’s how his arms were—wide open, his palms nailed to a length of unfinished wood, as innocent and vulnerable as it is possible to be.
The virtues are an absence before they are a presence. Courage is the absence of fear, innocence of lust, humility of pride. And what is this purifying fecundity, this mothering absence? Love, actually.
Once or twice today, just because we can, let’s lay our thoughts aside.
The greatest power of them all, by a margin so vast it cannot be measured? Innocence. Yes, it’s despoiled everywhere. But still, by virtue of divine fiat, it is everywhere.